


A Single Night

by Skalidra



Series: Marco Polo - A/B/O [3]
Category: Marco Polo (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Enthusiastic Consent, Intersex, Knotting, Multi, Omega Khutulun, Omega Marco, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 16:23:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10136582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/pseuds/Skalidra
Summary: While on the way to the Walled City, Byamba and Khutulun spend nearly every moment together. Wrestling, in one way or another. It's Khutulun's invitation (and Byamba's agreement) that brings Marco to their ger one night, to share in their new status as partners. After all, Khutulun's had the pale flower once already, and Byamba would be lying if he said he'd never considered it himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to another story in this excellent little series of, 'Marco gets screwed by basically everyone'. I swear there's like... a whole big plot thing behind all of these stories I just... haven't written any of it. I swear I have more than just porn-thoughts in this universe. (There is so much angst in my head, guys, I promise.) So anyway, yes, this does actually mean that in the Kublai/Marco story, he's incorrect when he thinks that Byamba has never been there. But like, even a Khan can't know _everything_. Just go with it. XD Enjoy!

Khutulun presses against him with a laugh, a hand tugging at his hair and the other sliding against his waist, toying with the buckle of his belt despite the fact that they are still outside of the privacy of any ger, not that that will stop her. He has heard too many stories to think that it will, and to that end he reaches down and lifts Khutulun into his arms, where her legs wrap around his waist and he can carry her as he wishes.

It is not easy, with her mouth on his and her thighs against him, but that is the way things are with Khutulun. Either stunningly easy, or harder than he would have imagined. He adores every second of it.

She laughs again as he swings her around, and then she twists in his grip, looking at something past his shoulder. Interest lights her eyes, and she gives him a wicked smirk before she calls, "Marco!"

He turns to look, and Khutulun's torso turns with him, until the arm wrapped around his neck and in his hair is the only thing connecting them from waist upwards. Marco is standing there looking at them, in the midst of a stride as though he'd stilled purely at the sound of her voice. She's smiling, and Marco quirks a small smile himself and, at the beckoning curl of her fingers, moves towards them.

Khutulun drops off of his waist without a moment of pause, finding her feet as sure as if she is dismounting a horse. A comparison which may be more apt than he would care to believe, though he would like to believe that Khutulun cares for him at least to the same level as her horse.

"Khutulun. Byamba." Marco smiles a little bit wider, glances between them, and offers, "You look busy. I would not wish to interrupt whatever it is you plan on doing with your night."

"Has the Khan summoned you?" Khutulun asks, as she reaches out, curls fingers into the cloth of Marco's top and tugs him a step closer.

"No," Marco admits, readily enough. "My night is my own for now."

She tugs him another step closer; he does not seem to mind.

"Join us," Khutulun offers, and Marco stills. So does he.

"Join you?" Marco echoes. "For…?"

"A night of fun!" Khutulun lets go of his hair, drags Marco close enough that her arm can wrap around his shoulders instead, which he allows seemingly without hesitation. A surprise in some ways; Marco has a… reputation.

"You mean…” Marco swallows, glances up at him and then back to Khutulun as she curls fingers through his curls. "You wish me to join the both of you? Together?"

Khutulun presses closer to Marco, smiles a little wider, and he… well, he cannot deny that he likes the idea. He would _never_ force what Marco has not explicitly offered, because to do so would break the trust fostered between them and he does not wish to lose that, but Marco is _beautiful_. Not like Khutulun, not fierce and gorgeous, but pale and clever and attractive.

"We had fun, didn't we?" Khutulun asks, tugging at the curls between her fingers.

Marco's smile is small, but true. Almost embarrassed. "Yes, we did."

Khutulun leans closer to him, says something right into his ear, and he watches the Latin flush, sharp and sudden. Then glance to him, flush _harder_ , and shiver a little bit. He raises an eyebrow, and Marco's gaze lingers for a couple seconds and then lowers to Khutulun.

"I would be… amenable to that."

Khutulun gives a delighted laugh, and then she tugs at Marco's hair and pulls him in. His mouth dries as she kisses Marco, and he can really only stare as Marco kisses _back_ , one hand touching her waist, and his neck bending easily underneath the pull of her fingers. It may be one of the most attractive things he's ever seen, and he was fairly sure he didn't even _have_ a thing for omegas together.

Then Khutulun pulls back — Marco's eyes stay closed for a moment — and extends a hand towards him. Marco's eyes open, head tilting to look at him. He takes Khutulun's hand and lets her pull him towards the two of them, as she twists Marco to face him, her hand lingering on his back.

He pauses for a moment, and then carefully lifts a hand to brush fingers across the line of Marco's jaw. He watches, but there's no rejection in the blue eyes looking up at him, and Marco tilts up into his hand, raising his chin and letting him trace his fingers down the line of his throat. It's… exhilarating, in a way. To be one of the very few allowed to touch Marco in any way, let alone like this.

"Are you sure?" he asks, and Marco's mouth curls into a tiny smile.

"Yes," is the simple answer. Then, "Inside though? I am… not much for public displays."

" _Our_ history would say differently," Khutulun says, grinning and happy even as she pulls Marco along with her, in the direction of their shared ger. He follows.

"Alright," Marco protests, "I was drunk, and certainly not expecting you to just… do as you did."

"Pin you down and have you?" Khutulun teases, and nips hard enough at the side of Marco's throat to make him give a small gasp and flinch away. "You were such an innocent little thing, how was I supposed to resist?"

"You never resist taking what you want," he comments, and she grins back at him.

"Were that true, _you_ would be naked much more often than you are, Byamba."

Marco chokes on a snort, and Khutulun drags him inside their ger with one last wicked smirk aimed back towards him. He follows, but turns once he's past the flap to tie it shut. He certainly does not want anyone bursting in to interrupt them, and he is not certain that Marco would not simply die of embarrassment if someone else witnessed what is doubtless about to happen. It is not the same as someone walking in on simply the two of them.

By the time he turns around again, having tied the flap shut as securely as he can manage, Khutulun is halfway towards stripping Marco down, her mouth on his and hands pushed up beneath the last layer still covering his chest, the furs over them already discarded to the side. For a few moments he only watches, as Khutulun draws a muffled, half-whine from Marco, her hands pushing the cloth from his shoulders to reveal the pale muscle of his chest and arms.

Marco is still clearly a foreigner, still clearly not born to instinct and blood as they are, but he has become something of a hybrid. Pale, smooth, innocent, and yet he has become something fierce and defensive, drawing blood more often than allowing himself to be so much as touched. He is on his way to becoming a true warrior, under the guiding hands of Hundred Eyes and the Khan himself. He has personally watched Marco grow over time, watching over him on order of the Khan and because of his own curiosity.

Khutulun was absolutely right, the pure, innocent thing that he accompanied to that first party is both very like and very unlike the man before them now, and how can that be resisted?

She nips at Marco's lip as the kiss is broken, before nudging her way beneath Marco's chin and nuzzling at his throat, teeth grazing along his skin. Marco's head tilts back, baring more of his throat, eyes flickering closed as his hands lift and grip her arms, holding on as though he wishes to cling to her and never let go. Byamba understands the impulse.

"Are you going to stand there all day, Byamba?" Khutulun asks, turning her head to look back at him, her gaze wicked, the curl of her mouth inviting.

Marco's eyes open again, looking around her to him, and there is a soft smile, a duck of his head that looks bashful. No fear though, no wariness, and that draws him away from the flap of the ger and over towards both of them. Khutulun draws slightly away from Marco, leaving a parting nip to the side of his throat that draws a small gasp, before sliding around to stand at the Latin’s back instead. She smiles at him over Marco's shoulder, and he watches her hands come around and clasp either side of the Latin's waist, rubbing down towards his hips and the edge of the clothing still left on him. Marco shivers, and leans slightly backwards and into her.

He steps up to Marco, just in front of him. Those wide blue eyes look up at him, and he can't help but eye the line of Marco's throat that's exposed by how his head has to tilt back, can't help but want to bruise the delicate skin and make sure everyone knows he was there. _Soak_ the Latin in his scent, sink teeth into his throat, fill him full and make him cry out. Show Khutulun that he can handle pleasing any omega she wants him to, if that's what she wants. Base alpha instinct that he forces himself to hold back a bit; he cannot imagine Marco will appreciate being taken too roughly.

He reaches forward, sliding the tips of his fingers up Marco's chest and then flattening his hand to rest just below the tempting hollow of Marco's throat, and he can _feel_ the faint vibration as Marco gives a small, welcoming sound and pushes up against his hand. Khutulun is pressed up against Marco's back, and her mouth is against his throat, teeth showing where she's nibbling at his skin. Not hard enough to leave marks, though he knows that she loves doing so.

The breath he takes is slow, and he slides his hand upwards to cup Marco's face, removing his hand from the source of temptation so that he can speak more evenly. "I will take nothing you do not offer," he tells Marco, keeping his voice low but serious. "Say the word and I will stop."

There is a sharp inhalation at his words, and then Marco — the beautiful, wild, little Latin of the Court — _smiles_ at him. Pure and sweet and open, as trusting as the way that Marco nuzzles into his hand, simultaneously baring a bit more of his throat to Khutulun. "Thank you, Byamba," is the clearly heartfelt answer. "I am… comfortable." Marco's mouth parts a touch, gaze flicking down, a slight flush crawling onto those cheeks before he adds, "This is… not the first time I have been between a paired couple."

He blinks, surprised, as Khutulun snorts.

Marco is quick to add, “Admittedly, I have not participated in such an event where both parties were so active. Mine was one and _then_ the other; not simultaneously.”

“ _You_ are not so innocent as you like to appear,” Khutulun says, with a laugh, and Marco turns slightly back towards her, eyes still ever-so-wide, as though perpetually startled.

“I do not _try_ to appear so,” he argues. “I imagine I have grown less so with time, but I cannot control the perception of others.”

“Of course you can,” Khutulun dismisses, as she traces her nails up Marco’s sides, which are apparently sensitive enough to make him suck in a breath that’s half a laugh. “You have convinced them all you are wild, have you not?”

“ _You_ are wild,” he defends, squirming slightly away from her hands. “ _I_ am… obstinate. Besides, it is not the same. One could even say that proving I am not willing to allow just anyone also lends itself to convincing them I am innocent, though such a conclusion is flawed in several base way— _Ah!_ ”

Byamba laughs in both amusement and mild sympathy as Khutulun pulls her teeth from Marco’s shoulder, leading behind twin reddening crescents on the top of it. “I believe she wants you to concede the point,” he offers, drawing attention back to the hand he still has just barely touching Marco’s cheek by sliding it back and into the curls of hair that are one of many things that make him so very different. “Come here, little Latin.” he murmurs, and draws Marco up to him.

Kissing Marco is _nothing_ like kissing Khutulun. There’s an easy yield before his lips instead of a battle, a sweet surrender that he’s certain Khutulun has never even pretended to do in her _life_. And he would never trade that, but this is new, interesting, and he explores it with the depth that it deserves.

Marco’s hands settle on his arms, light and somewhat tentative, and he encourages the touch with a low rumble pulled from the depths of his chest. He is rewarded with a shiver, and he cannot honestly say whether Marco steps forward or is pushed, but quite suddenly they are pressed together, Marco’s skin brushing his in places where the gaps in his clothing allow it. A moment later there are hands pulling at his top that must be Khutulun’s, and he smiles into the kiss and reaches out a hand for her.

She lets him catch her, and he knows it, but it does not stop him from pulling her in from the side, breaking the kiss with Marco so that he can turn and find her mouth instead. She meets him as passionately as he expects, teeth biting at his lips before they’ve even made proper contact, a hand finding purchase in his braids and pulling him down with that grip so she has a more advantageous angle.

She’s the one to shove him back with a laugh, breaking his hold as easily as though it were only fingertips and turning to Marco to complete the circle, drawing him into a much harder kiss than Byamba allowed himself to take. One of her arms circles his pale waist, pulling him in against her, and he yields in all of the ways that she conquers. It is gorgeous to watch, to see the 'pale flower' bend beneath her touch and allow her to turn him and then to press him back.

Marco's back presses to his chest at her guidance, and he is so _small_ in comparison, head fitting easily beneath his chin, body overshadowed by his own. Most people are small when measured against him, but in Marco it seems so much more obvious and important. Even though he is technically the slightest bit taller than Khutulun, even weighs more than she does, he still seems smaller in comparison to her energy and her presence. Khutulun always seems so much larger than she really is, whereas Marco has a habit of sinking into backgrounds when possible. To listen, to watch, to pick apart with that clever tongue of his.

He grasps Marco's arms, almost circling the muscle there with his large hands. Khutulun breaks the kiss to nip her way down Marco's throat, and he can't see it between them but she _must_ do something else as well because Marco gives a soft cry and jerks against him, back arching and head falling back. Scent swells sharply, and he takes in a breath that smells of the sweet-spice that has always marked Marco as something unique in this land. It is no less intoxicating than Khutulun's sharper spice, then the scent of any omega who truly desires touch.

He lets one arm hook around Marco's chest, sliding his palm across that smooth skin — almost entirely untouched by the scars that litter most warriors — and finding the planes of the Latin's stomach. It twitches beneath his touch, drawing in on a small gasp. He's entirely unable to resist leaning down and pressing his lips to Marco's temple, and then lower, until he can graze his teeth at the curve of Marco's jaw and over the faint stubble there. From this angle, he can finally see down between the two omega bodies, to where Khutulun's hand is pushed down beneath the tie of Marco's clothing and into the depths beneath.

Hands come to grip at the cloth covering his own thighs, twisting the fabric and pulling, as Marco pushes back against him. He can feel the faint rock of Marco's hips, in time with — now that he can see it — the slight roll of Khutulun's shoulder. He wonders, as Marco tugs at his clothing and arches, cheek rubbing against his jaw as he twists into him, if Khutulun intends to bring Marco to a release just like this. She has that sort of a smile curving her lips, and he knows that she has enjoyed many omegas before. She probably knows more than he ever will about bringing pleasure to omega bodies, and perhaps that should irritate him but honestly it only thrills him.

Khutulun could, perhaps, please anyone else brought into their bed better than he could. He would love to watch. (He is tempted to simply sit back and let Khutulun have Marco once again, except that he knows Khutulun wishes more from him than that.)

He dips his head just a little bit further, so that he can get his mouth on Marco's throat. He lingers there for a moment, allowing his palm to rub a small, soothing circle into Marco's stomach, before he lets his lips travel up and back. Marco _jerks_ when he slides a tongue up, behind the lobe of one ear to one source of that enticing scent, flicking over the sensitive skin and drawing a sharp whine. Khutulun laughs, and he can feel her press Marco closer to him, feel her trap him more securely between them.

"That was a lovely clench," she teases; now he knows where exactly her fingers are. "Do that again, Byamba. Stay there."

Of course he obeys — one doesn't just fight Khutulun on what she wants — and Marco twists between them as he continues to twist his tongue against that place of such sensitivity. He feels Khutulun move, and then Marco cries out, sharp and gasping between them, nearly _writhing_.

"Gods!" is the equally sharp exclamation, and he draws back just far enough that he can see what Khutulun is doing to their Latin.

The sight of her head ducked down on the opposite side of Marco's gives him a clue, as does the way that Marco shudders and all but sobs a breath. It is a more than fair reaction; he doubts that Marco has ever had both places of scent stimulated at the same time, and one is more than enough for most people. Khutulun apparently wishes to overwhelm him, and he cannot deny that it will probably be lovely to see the Latin in such great pleasure.

He returns to his assigned task, tightening his grip on Marco's arm and waist to keep him held close. He trembles between them, crying out in gasping breaths, interspersed with words in a language Byamba doesn't understand. The hands curled tight in his clothing are clinging, but they don't tap or otherwise beat at him, so he assumes that although overwhelmed, Marco does not wish for it to stop. He is certain that either himself or Khutulun would realize his refusal, if necessary.

Marco's noises are beautiful, though certainly quieter than Khutulun, more restrained. Different too; he has never had the pleasure of bedding a male omega before, and the different collection of sounds is new to him. A deeper range, even driven as high as Marco's voice has become.

Khutulun is laughing against the other side of Marco's throat, warm and delighted. He can recognize the cadence of begging in Marco's foreign words, the roll of hips that jerks in off-rhythm, trying to meet a quickly building release.

A half-sob, a scrape of nails against his thigh that he can feel even through the cloth protecting it, and then Marco is arching in a roll of motion, gasping breathlessly and then crying out loud enough to rival Khutulun. He can _smell_ it, and he eases the laps of his tongue, allowing Marco to ride the release, muscle tightening and easing in waves. By the way Marco jerks, pressing hard back into his chest, Khutulun perhaps does not show as much mercy.

Marco goes lax, shuddering between them, after a few final jerky rolls of his entire form, which is when Khutulun does finally pull back. He cannot help but laugh at the wicked smirk that she wears, and she obliges his attraction by leaning in over Marco’s shoulder for a lingering kiss with Marco’s scent and taste shared between them. One of her hands rises to take his cheek in hand, nails lightly scratching at his skin even as she allows his tongue entrance to her mouth.

When they do part, Khutulun smiles and simply shifts over, her hand moving to Marco’s face instead and drawing him into a kiss as well. Byamba watches, feeling his own desire low in his gut and knowing that Marco must be able to feel it pressed against him, especially when he cannot quite resist rocking his hips forward at the sight presented to him. Marco is still breathing heavily, still lax and yielding between them; eyes closed, mouth being thoroughly claimed by his warrior of a princess.

Khutulun shows no teeth this time, at least that he sees, and when she allows Marco another breath he gives a tiny, breathless groan of protest. It takes another moment, where Khutulun wraps a hand around the back of that pale neck and tugs him slightly forward, for Marco’s eyes to halfway open.

“I… do not wish to move,” he mumbles, words understandable if heavily accented. “Perhaps ever again.”

Khutulun laughs, and he smiles and releases his grip on the Latin so that he can bend down and simply lift him instead, an arm under knees and shoulders both. Marco gives a sound he cannot label as anything but a _squeak_ , and he snorts and carries him forward towards the pile of furs that functions as their shared bed.

“Then we shall move you,” he offers, as he kneels down to lay Marco out among the furs. “You do not have to do anything but enjoy, Marco.” He pauses, as Khutulun — now noticeably bare of the upper half of her clothing — sprawls out beside Marco, a hand sliding possessively up his smooth chest to take his jaw and tilt it into a kiss. “Unless Khutulun wishes it,” he corrects, with a smile.

She pulls back, smiles up at him. "Smart man." She returns to claiming Marco's mouth a moment later, after a quick wink.

Marco is moving into her, turning slightly to meet the angle of her kiss under the guidance of the hand on his jaw. His breath is finally slowing, evening back out underneath her touch now that he's been given the opportunity to actually breathe and recover. Byamba watches for a few more moments, enjoying how Khutulun is rolling against Marco's side, her breasts against his shoulder. It isn't often that he gets to watch his princess move like this; most often they are pressed too close for him to truly appreciate how she looks, except when she pins him down to ride him as if he were a horse. (Which happens more often, perhaps, than most alphas would prefer, but he loves every moment.)

Then he shifts forward, warning Marco of his presence with the touch of a hand to his waist, and then letting his hands fall to the ties of what clothing remains on the Latin. Marco gives a breathy gasp into the kiss, hips rolling up to encourage it when he slides the cloth down to bare the rest of Marco to their gazes. He takes the time to strip his own vest off before returning. Khutulun has not yet allowed Marco to leave the kiss, so he is free to slide his hands up those pale thighs and push them apart, drawing a small, muffled whine as they yield to his touch.

He swallows away a low growl at the scent and sight of Marco, dipping his head down to press a kiss to his navel as he lets one of his hands slip inwards to explore that inviting, soft entrance. It's wet beneath his fingers, slick, and when he presses inwards two of his fingers are easily welcomed, despite their girth. Marco shudders, and from the corner of his eye he watches one pale hand twist into the fur beneath it, clinging tight even as his hips cant up, offering more. He takes the gift as it is, pressing a soft kiss to the skin before his mouth and rocking his fingers in the ways that Khutulun has taught him.

Marco is perhaps more sensitive than she is, or simply more responsive, because the fingers draw sweet sounds from him. Muffled, by Khutulun's mouth, but still undeniably sounds of pleasure.

He adds a third finger and receives a sharper cry, one loud enough that it breaks the kiss with Khutulun and arches Marco's back. He takes a moment to be sure that it's not too much, but Khutulun has her mouth on Marco's throat again and there's not a trace of pain on the Latin's face. Strained pleasure, perhaps, but the fit around his fingers doesn't feel tight enough to be causing pain so he accepts that if Marco wants him to stop, he'll speak up. That was the agreement made, after all.

He watches Khutulun's mouth lower, drifting down to one shoulder and then drawing the skin there between her teeth, leaving the first real marks on the paler skin. He considers speaking up himself for a moment, wondering if the Khan will mind others' marks upon one of his favorite pets (if Marco is even summoned), but shuts that impulse away as well. Surely, Marco knows better than either of them what the Khan will or will not allow, and if marks were a problem, surely it would have been mentioned. Marco is far too clever to forget such a simple rule, and one with such theoretically high consequences for all involved.

Marco's other hand has found Khutulun's hair, and is tangled into the braids there, his shoulder pushing up against her teeth as he rocks between their touches. Those blue eyes are shuttered, head tilted back into the furs, mouth parted to allow him to pant and to voice the sounds that Byamba's touch is pulling from him. It is a glorious picture, and he now fully understands why the Khan is so very entranced by this little Latin omega.

The clever mind and tongue was always an obvious reason, and Marco's apparent loyalty to the Khan another (after some time had passed), but seeing the honesty and openness that Marco allows in intimacy completes the puzzle. He cannot imagine that the Khan's harem, even as diverse as it is, has anything like this open innocence. He could easily be entranced himself, if his interests didn't already lie elsewhere.

"Strip down," Khutulun orders, with a smile aimed his direction even as she twists and falls back onto the furs spread beneath them all. "I think the pale flower is ready, don't you?"

Marco makes a small protesting sound, eyes flickering open, and he pauses until the words, "I am not a _flower_ ," are mumbled before he allows himself to move, sure that the protestation is not aimed at the idea of Marco being ready for his touch.

"You _are_ and you know it," Khutulun teases, rolling over to brace herself above Marco, as Byamba shifts back to remove the rest of his clothing. "A pale, delicate little thing."

Marco huffs a breath, and the lift of his chin is challenge, even though her words are not all that incorrect. "Compared to _you_ , perhaps. Compared to my own race I may as well be savage."

"An entire race of pale flowers…” Her smile is a wicked thing, her voice half a purr. "I could spend years taking all of you, one by one. Would they be as much fun as you, Master Polo?"

Marco's smile is a warm, equally amused thing, and his tongue quick and clever despite distractions when he answers, "Well they would not wrestle you, Khutulun. I doubt you would find much of interest in someone who did not offer even slight challenge."

"Fair," she agrees, and then looks back over her shoulder to him. "Are you prepared as well, Byamba, or do you need a bit of coaxing?"

He takes no offense at the teasing, only leans forward and kisses the back of her shoulder, bracing a hand beside Marco's head to hold himself over them both. "With you? Never." She rewards him with a real kiss for that, but only for a few moments before she pulls away again, leaning down to take Marco's mouth instead. He nuzzles at the back of her neck, breathing in the spice of her scent and letting it sink into his chest. "What do you want?" he asks, plainly enough.

He's not fool enough to believe that being the alpha here gives him the power.

She leaves Marco with a parting nip to his lip, one sharp enough to draw a gasp, before giving a small laugh. "Marco knows. I asked him first, after all." She rolls her shoulder to push him back, and then sits back and draws out from between them, still smiling. "Go on. Tell him."

His gaze falls to Marco, whose cheeks have flushed a delightful red, head turned slightly to the side as if shy. "She wants—” A brighter flush as Marco squirms, gaze dipping down his now nude frame to unmistakable places. "She wishes to see us… tied."

"The words will not _bite_ you," Khutulun says, with a laugh. "They do not have teeth, little Latin."

"And you?" he asks of Khutulun, even as he smiles. "I would not wish to neglect you."

The way she reaches out and pats his cheek is somewhat condescending, but her smile is warm and her words true when she answers, "I will take care of myself. This time. Now go on, give me a show."

He kisses her palm before she pulls it away. "As you wish."

She pulls back, sprawling out and beginning to wiggle out of the bottom half of her clothes, as he shifts to lean more deliberately over Marco. Marco, whose gaze dips down between his legs and then sharply rises again, embarrassed or perhaps intimidated by the size of him. Not an unusual reaction; he is larger than most anyone in almost every way, and there are few omegas entirely comfortable with the size of him. Khutulun, even, was a bit surprised by it the first time.

"I'll be slow," he promises, and then adds, "It will fit."

Marco shifts, both his hands in the fur now, his cock once again half firm. "I know," is the answer, and it sounds… quite confident, if still somewhat embarrassed.

He stalls, somewhat surprised. Khutulun snorts the next moment, grinning as she says, "So the rumors about the Khan are true, hm?"

Marco gives a small shake of his head, and a slightly stammering, "That is not my place to say."

"Well," Khutulun starts, and he knows by her tone that what she's about to say will be as wildly inappropriate as ever, "the alternative is that Ahmad's cock is as large as his ego, and I doubt that."

He stifles a laugh behind his hand as Marco chokes a little bit, eyes gone even wider than normal, something horrified but also amused in his expression. " _Khutulun_ ," he says, as almost a hiss, but she's already laughing at the reaction she's inspired.

She shoves at Marco's shoulder with one hand, curling it underneath to flip the shoulder up a couple inches with a push of her fingers. "Roll over, pale flower. You do _not_ want this brute on top of you when things are done."

He rolls his eyes. "That was once and _you_ did not give me much choice in the positioning," he defends, as Marco pushes up on both elbows and then, with a last breath, rolls over onto his hands and knees.

He can't help but take a small, stabilizing breath himself at the sight presented in how Marco arches downwards, arms folding and legs parting to offer himself. Khutulun never _presents_ , and he'd nearly forgotten how deeply that tugs at instinct and desire. His hands come, automatically, to grip either side of those hips, his fingers wrapping easily around the jut of bone and the firmness of muscle. As if they were made for him and he supposes, in a way, they were.

Slowly, he adjusts so that he's nudging against the outside of Marco's entrance, inadvertently teasing the heat and wetness there as he takes another deeper, steadying breath. He has had to learn all his life not to simply _take_ , and that control will not fail him now.

He rocks his hips forward, just enough to breach Marco, and the effect is immediate. A stronger curve of that pale back, a gasping cry of a sound, and the backwards press of hips to push him in another inch. His lips curl in a small growl, and he carefully pushes forward. Marco, somehow, simply takes him. He doesn't need to stop, doesn't need to pause as he does with nearly anyone else (Khutulun is different; she enjoys the sting of it), he simply pushes forward and Marco yields, fluttering around the length of him but not clenching down.

Perhaps Khutulun's teasing was not so inaccurate; perhaps his father, the Khan, really is... gifted.

Marco releases a shaking moan when he is fully seated, his breath coming a bit strained, his fingers clenching and releasing on the hips beneath them. He has to take a moment to gain relative control, his gaze resting between Marco's shoulder blades, watching the shift and faint tremble of muscle. He swallows and breathes out, and allows himself to move.

The keen his movements bring is an intoxicating thing, and he rocks himself down into Marco, exploring the force he can use and Marco's reactions to it. Marco is thoroughly enjoying it, his sounds once again breathless and building in volume, body braced on his elbows and his fingers coiled in the fur. Khutulun, beside them, is on her back now. Her head twisted to watch Marco's expression, one hand on her breasts and the other down between her legs. It distracts him for a few moments, before the welcoming heat of Marco calls his attention back and he devotes himself to obeying his princess' desire. Putting on a show for her.

That's an easy commandment to follow.

He leans down, bracing a hand beside Marco's head as he blankets him and sliding his other hand around to curl his arm around Marco's chest and pull them flush together. This close, he can feel the rapid beat of Marco's heart and the rise and fall of his chest. It speaks to the instinct in him, and he finds himself mouthing at Marco's shoulder, at the back of his neck. Marco gives a sharp whine when he grazes teeth across the back of his neck, and he gives a small growl back, lightly clasping his teeth over one knob of his spine.

Marco instantly goes lax beneath him with a gasping moan, reacting more instinctively than most Mongol omegas would ever dream to. Khutulun would _maul_ him if he bit at her like this and expected her to actually surrender. Marco, on the other hand, sinks into that surrender and gives himself to it. He has to let go of the bite before he's tempted to bite any harder, or any more permanently. That's one thing that's unquestionably off limits.

(Speaking of Khutulun _mauling_ him...)

"Someone _has_ been teaching you," Khutulun says, her own voice a bit of a gasp. "You are a more beautiful flower than ever, Marco. Finally blooming, showing your colors to the world." Marco arches against him at the words, and Khutulun gives a breathless laugh. "He feels wonderful, doesn't he?"

The gasped, " _Yes_ ," from Marco surprises him. It's followed by a string of words in something that sounds like Marco's home language, smooth syllables melting into each other. He cannot deny that the foreign tongue tightens his gut a bit, and drives another low growl from him.

"You've made him speechless," Khutulun teases, with a smile. "You must feel good too, little Latin."

Very good. Hot, slick, and yielding beneath him; entirely different than what he's used to but wonderful all the same. Soft where he's used to hard, letting him take where he's used to being taken instead. He could probably speak, if he tries, but he's content to let instinct rule him for the moment. He's content to hold Marco to him and take the omega, working himself towards a knot and a true _claiming_. It won't be long, he can feel that, and by the way Marco is moving, and the half-broken words in different languages escaping him, it won't be long for him either. That's just one more thing that satisfies him; bringing Marco pleasure is a necessity.

Khutulun, beside them, is releasing her own sounds. Gasps and quiet moans mostly. He's distracted for a moment, staring at the way her breasts are moving as she breathes, and at the roll of her shoulder as her fingers work down inside her. Then the heat in his gut is spreading out through his skin, and Marco cries out and arches against him, and his attention is yanked back as his knot starts to swell.

He manages two more somewhat jerky thrusts before he shoves deep and forces himself to stop moving, to let his knot finish growing inside of Marco as the Latin trembles, head tossed backwards and pressing against his chest. He bites into his own lip to hold back the impulse to bite into Marco's shoulder instead, burying his face into the side of Marco's shoulder and breathing deep to let the scent there satisfy his desire. He groans as the knot locks and his release crashes over him, spilling far inside Marco's depths.

Marco shudders and then shouts, and he can feel the contraction of Marco's own release, feel how he goes tight for several long moments and then relaxes all at once. If his arm wasn't still hooked around Marco's chest, the Latin would probably be sliding down into the furs, given how much he's eased.

It takes him a minute or two to get the presence of mind to push back, and then to very, very carefully lay them both down. Marco whines somewhat at the shift, but pushes back into him once they're settled, his arm over Marco's chest and Marco's top leg hooked over his to keep their joining comfortable. Khutulun approaches then, and when she presses up against Marco from the front, drawing the Latin into a kiss, he realizes that she's warm and relaxed too, and reached her own brink somewhere in his mindless period.

Her kiss is soft this time, though her tongue is still clearly claiming Marco's mouth, and when she allows him to breathe she murmurs, "What a good little flower you are, Marco." Marco shivers, gives a brief, pleading whine, and Khutulun smiles, petting through that curly hair. "Oh, he _floats_. How adorable."

He smiles, stroking his hand down Marco's side and arm. "Did you enjoy?" he asks her, over Marco's head.

" _Oh_ yes." She pushes up so that she can kiss him too, and he reaches out and wraps his arm around her back to draw her closer, trapping Marco between them (as though he weren't already trapped). She doesn't bite him this time, but she does nibble at where he bit his own lip, testing the impressions left there.

Marco is calm between their bodies, breathing as evenly as if he were asleep, if it weren't for how he's giving soft, pleasured sighs every few exhales. When Khutulun pulls back she resumes stroking through his hair, and he cuddles closer to her, his head coming to rest against her chest, a hand touching her waist as he gives a pleased, soft sound.

"The Khan's a lucky man," Khutulun says, equally as soft. "Such a sweet little thing he's taken ownership of."

"Very," he agrees, before he dips his head and presses a soft kiss to the top of Marco's hair. "So what do you want now, my princess? Are we done?"

She pauses, and then lifts both arms and stretches out before pressing just a bit closer. "Let him rest," she offers, her hand returning to Marco's hair. "Then we'll see if he's up for more. Or if he has other engagements."

"Whatever you want," he promises, and she smiles.

"I know."


End file.
